The Crusade
by PotterAnon
Summary: GinnyDraco. A continuation of 'Conversion', in which Ginny and Draco's harshly different lives continue to collide. Contains spoilers for 'Conversion'. Is second in the 'Conversion' series. RATING CHANGE for possibility of LANGUAGE or SEXY STUFF.
1. Glass Walls

_First in the new _Crusade_ story, second in the _Conversion_ series. As always, JKR's work is her own and is not mine - anyway, get off my back, she said she likes the whole fan-fiction scene anyway! More to the point: enjoy!_

_The Crusade should be read after Conversion - it is a sequel, after all... :D_

_Thanks for all you're support, and by the way, I'm looking for a beta-tester. Anyone help? No-one too... severe, please!_

* * *

**Glass Walls**

Cool autumnal light of mauve and peach fell calmly through one of the high stained glass windows into Hogwarts library, hitting the back of Ginny's neck and casting her shadow across the table. Cocooned at the end of one of the rows of shelves with Harry, Ron and Hermione, her fingers restlessly plied the pages of large, heavy volume – gilt-edged and gold-rimmed pages, decorated with massive coloured drawings that swam with movement. Her back was burning from the fire smouldering behind her at the end of the row, encouraged by the woollen jumper she was wearing. Her mind, however, was nowhere near the hot library, but was corridors away in a far distant Charms lesson.

Ginny gazed softly at the picture before her. It depicted a scene in which a great golden dragon was flying – with unfathomable lightness and grace - amongst snow-covered mountain tops, breaking through lazily furling cloud and into patches of bright, warm sunlight. Its painted scales glistened magnificently, and Ginny felt herself slipping away from her seat and into its realm. No matter how hard so tried to concentrate on what the words on the opposite page said, all she could do was blindly take in the patterns of the dragon's movement, and think about that classroom, three floors away, where she could see Draco in her mind's eye. Right now, either he'd be drumming his fingers impatiently on his desk, trying to make the lesson end faster, or else sitting at the front steeped in concentration the likes of which she could only hope to gain, in the hopes of avoiding confrontation with his new Slytherin enemies.

Since the scandal they had created weeks before at the Halloween Ball, Draco had been hounded by the Slytherins. Questions of what in hell he was doing plagued him everywhere he went in Hogwarts and beyond, and subtle ploys, provocations and plots that would be injurious to him were growing in frequency and severity – during the most recent excursion to Hogsmeade, he'd apparently had an un-hatched Doxy egg scrumptiously hidden in his bag by some unknown assailant. Once he'd returned, he'd almost been expelled for trying to sneak it into the castle. Luckily, as McGonagall had no proof he'd deliberately tried to smuggle it in, there was little she could do without evidence.

Whenever Ginny spoke to Draco about this though, he of course denied that these instances were troubling him. He always professed that to be able to know Ginny in the open was enough to make up for it, but Ginny could see quite plainly that he was getting continually more tired and hacked-off with these events. She didn't mention this, or at least, she hadn't yet. She knew she would have to talk to someone about it sooner or later, though, for fear of Draco's safety.

As of yet, their romantic association remained a heavily guarded secret. So heavily guarded, in fact, that nobody knew about it. As Ginny felt it wise not to mention Draco in public, and especially not to Harry, Ron and Hermione, they assumed that she had lost her interest in him, and that her one slip-up at the Ball had been purely to dismay and alarm. This wasn't true, obviously – she cared for Draco as fervently as she ever had – but admittance of this she knew wouldn't sit well with them.

When she'd returned from the funeral, after insuring Ron, Harry and Hermione wouldn't miss her presence for the few days she was absent, she and Draco had decided that keeping everything quiet would be safer for both. Ginny said it was because she didn't want the Slytherin's messing things up. Draco said it was because he didn't want Ron spontaneously combusting.

This hadn't perturbed the Slytherins. They were either still convinced that there was something going on, or Draco had alienated himself so completely that even if there wasn't, he couldn't retain a dominant place in Slytherin ranks. On the other hand, he was spending so much lesson time concentrating on his actual work that his grades now exceeded most in the years', excepting Hermione's.

"Found anything yet, Gin?" Ron asked, rousing her from her thoughts. She glanced at the page, flicked a couple over in what she hoped was a frustrated manner, and sighed.

"Nope, not a thing," she said heavily. When Hermione looked downcast, she added, "Well, you did say it was unlikely there'd be anything here, 'Mione. If You-Know-Who's really going to hide clues to his Horcruxes, he's not really going to be hiding them here, is he? The one place Dumbledore would have been sure to know everything that went on in the castle."

"But Dumbledore once said that even he didn't know everything that went on in the castle, Ginny," Harry chipped in, slamming his book shut and grabbing another. "There's a chance that if Voldemort was so attached to Hogwarts, then there could be a vital clue somewhere here, somewhere hidden."

"So you're saying all we have to do is look, and You-Know-Who's Horcrux clue's just going to leap up like an epiphany?" Ginny made a very sceptical glance around the book-laden walls. "I'm not exactly buying it, Harry."

"No one said this would be easy."

"Actually, you did: 'Coming down to help us, Ginny? We've been through half the library already; we're practically on top of it. Easy-peasey,' is what you actually said, remember?"

"Not 'peasey'. I never said 'peasey'."

"You sure?" Ron said. "Sounds like something you'd say..."

"No it doesn't," Harry said firmly, getting annoyed. "Not once have I ever said 'peasey', and I don't intend to start."

"Alright, Harry, calm down," Ginny said, smiling. "We're only joking—"

"Yeah, well, you try joking the next time we hear about another death at Voldemort's hand, another kid found at his mother's throat because he's under the Imperious—"

"Harry!" Ginny snapped, scowling. "That's enough. For Merlin's sake, keep it down, or Pince'll have us chucked out and no one'll be looking for anything. Harry, I know you're feeling the strain—" she added, more gently, while Hermione and Ron looked away, then got up and wandered down the central aisle to leave them alone. Harry, meanwhile, snorted.

"Strain? You haven't felt strain like this, Ginny—"

"Yeah, yeah, okay Harry, you've got it hard. Harder than anyone in your position should have to deal with. But like it not, you've accepted that Dumbledore gave you this mission, yes?"

Harry shrugged. "Of course I have—"

"Well then. You know you also have a responsibility to us, your friends. We need you to know that for some of us, who aren't as strong as you, we need to laugh. We need to laugh, or we'll cry, Harry."

Harry looked at her across the table top of open books and notes and paper and quills, and reached his hand out under the sun's quiet glare, grasping hers.

"I know, Ginny. I'm just... tired."

Ginny smiled. "You're always tired." She glanced at the clock. "Go up early to the Common Room. One early night couldn't hurt—"

He shook his head furiously. "Yeah, yes it could. One early night, and I'll miss it."

Ginny squeezed his hand. "You know that's not true. Not really."

"No," he shrugged, "not really. But it's the only way I'll keep going."

Harry dropped her hand as he got to his feet and wandered off down the middle row after Ron and Hermione. Ginny watched him, as he raised his fingers and rubbed the bridge of his nose under his glasses. She wondered how anyone with such an almighty burden weighing down their soul could keep going at all.

"I haven't got to start getting jealous of _Potter_, have I?"

Starting slightly, Ginny spun around, half-falling off her chair. Grabbing onto the side of the table, she managed to retain her balance, and got to her feet as smoothly as she could as Draco lent around the end of the bookcase, smirking.

"You don't have to get all weak-at-the-knees on my account, Ginevra Weasley; my ego is quite large enough as it."

"I fact I am well aware of," she replied, grinning. Tucking her chair under the table, Ginny rested her weight on the table, leaning on one of the books. "You're meant to be in Charms, aren't you?"

"Meant to be. But old Flitwick didn't notice me slip out early – one of the Ravenclaws had turned his chandelier into some kind of hanging basket arrangement."

She raised an eyebrow. "Surely that couldn't have been that distracting?" she asked, as Draco sidled down the row between the books and the table, tucking chairs in as he went.

"Well, no, it wouldn't have been. Except the flowers in the basket were letting out both a high-pitched whine, and a semi-toxic sleeping draft."

"Ah."

"Ah indeed," Draco nodded. "But there you are, trust Ravenclaws to perform magic with flair and originality required, and this was inevitable, really."

Ginny shook her head. "Shut up, Draco. Ravenclaw is a highly acc—"

"Accomplished house, yes, you've told me so before." Ginny looked up at him, and was inexplicably irritated when he dropped his gaze to the table. His brow furrowed.

"You've been busy."

She nodded. "Yeah, we're still searching."

"For those Horcrux things?"

She nodded. "Yes. But no luck. In truth, none of us really knows what we're doing or where to look."

Draco paused, his long fingers tracing the cover of the book she, earlier, had been using to disguise her day-dreaming. "Maybe I could help?"

She blinked. "I'm not sure Harry would—"

"But I'm not offering to help Harry, I'm offering to help you. And there's a good chance – an excessively good chance, in fact – that I'll know where to look a lot better than your Phoenix lot. Being of the ancient house of Malfoy, and everything." His grey eyes were fixed stubbornly on hers but were soft in jest. In his expression she could read a small amount of shame too.

Ginny smiled. "Then any help would be much appreciated," she agreed, lifting her weight off her arm, which had gone slightly numb. There was a quick sting in her finger and she gasped in surprise. She looked down to see blood blossoming.

"Paper cut," she explained, seeing Draco frown at her sharp intake of breath. He reached for her hand and pulled his wand out. Without a word he flicked the wand at the minute cut and it instantly healed. "Those non-verbal charms are coming on nicely," she said. Her neck felt warm from the feel of Draco's hand around hers.

Tilting her chin up towards him, Draco dropped his mouth to hers. Immediately Ginny felt the familiar mixed sensation of excitement at snatching a moment with him, and fear at the thought of getting caught. With her hearing apparently ultra-sensitive, she heard footsteps just past the end of their row.

They'd been caught out like this before now, for the simple reason that there was almost nowhere in the castle that was private and unguarded anymore. However, in every instance like this before now, they'd managed to cover it. One of them could hide, both of them could hide, or they could at least be far away enough from one another that suspicion never appeared. This time, though, they were trapped. And she knew before she saw them the expressions on the faces of Harry, Ron and Hermione as they rounded the corned and seemed to walk into a glass wall with shock and surprise.

* * *

Ginny couldn't remember the last time she'd seen that much disgust and revulsion cross her brother's face. And the fact that it had been directed straight at her was more unsettling to her than any number of mentions of Voldemort's latest hobby of using their children as means of disposing of adults who got in his way. The anger that seemed to alight behind his eyes was completely set against the calm, ocean blue colour there, and his hair colour made him look as if he had quite literally set himself on fire with rage. Far from being amused though, as she had been when Draco had first suggested it, she physically couldn't breathe for the furious drumming in her chest. 

Harry, likewise, was livid. What was worse about his rage, though, was the hot, burning hurt and pain that seemed to press on him from every angle. He looked personally betrayed, and was no doubt thinking about the conversation he had had with her mere minutes ago, where she had been a friend, an essential lifeline, and was now as deep-set an enemy as Draco himself.

Ginny was perfectly aware that what they were seeing was making each of their separate stomachs turn with fire. Ginny didn't even dare look at Hermione, but tried to coax her various body parts into moving themselves, slowly, from where they rested – her leg was wound around Draco's, so that her stomach was pressed so tightly against his hip that her balance was completely reliant on the fact that she was holding onto Draco's neck and waist.

Before she could even properly stand on her own two feet, both Harry and Ron had moved. At first she expected them to turn their wands on Draco, but instead – and this was what made her feel like several whole ice cubes had fallen down her throat into her stomach – Harry simply blinked for several dumb-struck moments and then, with a look so hard as to rival Hagrid's rock cakes, turned away and left as abruptly as he could. Ron took a few more seconds, during which he seemed to be employed in gathering the shattered remains of his temper, and then, shaking, stormed from the library, his lips pressed tight-shut as if he was about to be physically sick.

Ginny, at last, peered towards Hermione. She looked calmer than Harry and Ron, which, understandably, was not difficult, but Ginny could see something that was not directed towards her in the back of Hermione's gaze, but Draco. Pure and unadulterated hatred spilled from her eyes, and almost made Ginny want to step before Draco in protection in case Hermione had learnt to shoot jets of white-hot flame from her eyes.

"Hermione—" she began, but before she could finish Hermione spoke.

"I think it would be a good idea if you left, Ginny."

Suddenly braver, Ginny shook her head. "No thanks."

"What d'you think I'm going to do, Ginny?" Hermione snapped. "Go back to the Common Room; I can hardly going to harm him in a school full of Aurors and teachers, can I? Least of all in the library."

Ginny didn't move at first. Then Draco, from whom she'd managed to disentangle herself, placed a hand on her shoulder and bent down to her ear, his eyes on Hermione.

"Don't worry, Ginny, I'll be okay. She's right; she's not the type to harm me. Not in the library, at least," he added, squeezing her shoulder gently and smiling grimly. "Go, I'll listen to her. Go on. I'll talk to you later."

Eventually, Ginny nodded, slowly, and then, waving her wand at the piles of books on the table, sent them flying back into there various original spaces. She left the library quickly, and headed, not for the Common Room, but for the nearest Girls' Bathroom to lean heavily over the porcelain sink while she tried to stop herself trembling.

* * *

_As always, that's it for now. Apologies for mistakes - this is read-through but un-beta-ed. Comments?_


	2. Turkey Curry

**Turkey Curry**

Saying that Ginny had had trouble sleeping that night would be a tremendous understatement, with the result that when she staggered down the spiral staircase into the Common Room the following morning, bleary-eyed and nervous, she was surprised to find that nothing had changed.

She had thought, perhaps, that the secret of her relationship with Draco would have been spread so far around the castle now that she would have been set-upon as soon as she left the foot of the staircase. The Common Room was quiet, though. People were scattered out across the room, playing chess, working on essays, or discussing quietly how they were going to use their Saturday, and her appearance was barely registered. A few of her fellow sixth years smiled and nodded in her direction, and she acknowledged their presence but did not join them. Instead, she crossed the room and went out into the corridor.

She felt tired. She couldn't remember ever before having the power to alienate her family so completely, and the last thing she wanted to do was that. Her dreams last night had been plagued by visions of Ron, face-down in a puddle of blood, or Hermione being dragged to her knees by four or five hooded, cloaked Death Eaters by her hair. Worse of all was Harry, who was repeatedly enveloped by a thick green smog that seemed to devour him from his heart outwards.

Immersed in thoughts of her entire family being harmed grotesquely from her association with Draco Malfoy, she wandered through the corridors towards the Great Hall, occasionally bumping into suits of armour that had moved over night, and then forgetting to jump the trick step in the hidden staircase and getting her ankle stuck. Unable to move it, she sat down on the step above it and hid her face in her hands.

What if this thing she had going with Draco really did cause someone great harm? She didn't so much think that Draco would do anything deliberately, but what if somehow his defection caused anger in Voldemort and his supporters? What if they were less merciful because of it?

She dismissed this thought immediately. You-Know-Who wasn't really familiar with the concept of mercy to begin with, no matter what Draco did.

From the top of the staircase she heard a heavy rustling, and looked around to see Luna coming down the stairs towards her.

"Oh, hello, Ginny. What are you doing?"

"I'm stuck."

"Oh. That's nice."

Ginny snorted. "No, no it isn't. Could you help me?"

Luna frowned, pausing in her decent. "Yes, but why are you stuck if you don't think it's very nice? I wouldn't get myself stuck if I didn't think it was very nice."

"I didn't do it on purpose! I just... got stuck."

Luna gave her a look as if Ginny had just started spouting Mermish, but threw Ginny's arm around her shoulder all the same, and helped to pull her ankle free. Once released,

Ginny followed Luna towards the Hall.

"You're out quite early for breakfast, Luna, any particular reason?"

"Yes, my Dad's sending me the new issue of the _Quibbler_. It's supposed to have an article on how Inferi are actually Gollywobbles in disguise."

Ginny could not help thinking that if that was true, then Voldemort was no more dangerous than a Pigmy Puff, and a very small, very pink one at that.

"Is something the matter, Ginny? You looked upset when I first came down the staircase."

Once again Ginny was amused by Luna's propensity for having moments of startlingly clarity interspersed in her frequently ridiculous ramblings.

Ginny sighed. "I haven't exactly had the easiest time it lately, to be honest, no." Ginny glanced at Luna, whom, despite her flighty character, could keep a secret like no one else she knew. "Luna, you can't tell anyone – I know you won't anyway, but – I've been secretly seeing Draco Malfoy."

Luna nodded vaguely, her butterbeer cork necklace swinging against her T-shirt. "I know."

Ginny stopped in the track. "You _know_?"

Luna nodded again. "Yes. It's obvious."

Ginny blinked several times. Then furiously shook her head to try and clear her shock. After a few seconds, let out a short breath, and began again.

"Yes. Only now Ron, Harry and Hermione have found out. And they're not pleased."

"Yes, well, they wouldn't be, would they? That's an incredible betrayal, Ginny."

Ginny, who had been hoping to hear something a little more comforting, stared. Luna shrugged. "I expect the snogging makes up for that, though," Luna added.

Ginny burst out laughing. "Yes, it does, somewhat," she replied evenly. "But that doesn't change the fact that they _do_ think I've betrayed them and everything they stand for. Harry and Draco have been enemies since they stepped foot in Hogwarts—"

"Do you not think you've betrayed them?" Luna asked.

Ginny paused. "No, not really. I like Draco, loads. I can't imagine not having him in my life, not anymore. If anything, I feel betrayed that they can't see that..."

"Well have you told them that you feel like that?"

"Well, no, but—"

"Then there's your problem. A problem that is almost as big as the Inferi one Dad was talking about."

Ginny was silent. Now she thought about it, Ron, Harry and Hermione had absolutely no reason to assume that Draco had changed, aside from the death of his parents, and there was a hatred between them all that stretched back far enough to make her actions with him seem plain malignant, when coupled with the fact that she knew perfectly well about their shared history. Plus they had had no proof that said Draco was now acting against his former Master, and was aiding in the fight. She knew, of course, that he was, and that he was doing it well, but she could forgive the others for not being aware. She needed to talk to them.

* * *

Unsurprisingly, Ginny found Hermione in the library. Despite the fact that Hermione seemed to have ordered Harry and Ron to take a day off, she herself was still hard at work. Her progress was a lot more organised than theirs anyway – her books were piled neatly before her, and she had made extensive notes. When Ginny appeared, however, she only glanced up briefly before burying herself behind her work.

"What do you want, Ginny?"

"I need to explain."

"Explain what?" Hermione replied lightly. "Why you're conducting an affair with your brother's worst enemy, or why you're involved with Dumbledore's murderer?"

"Draco did not murder Dumbledore, Hermione," Ginny retorted, angered by such a low blow. "Snape—"

"Snape may have said the words, Ginny, but Draco Malfoy made it possible." Hermione glared at her.

"Are you even going to hear me out?"

Hermione looked at her, appearing to search her face. "Yes, alright. Sit down, then."

Ginny did, slipping into a seat opposite. "I understand," she began, "that you, Ron and Harry have absolutely no reason to trust Draco—"

"That's an understatement, Ginny—"

"Will you just let me speak, please?" Ginny snapped, flaring up. "Okay then, I know why you guys have every reason to _distrust_ him, and to want to disassociate yourselves from him completely. But you don't know him in the same way I do, 'Mione. You've never seen the other side of him."

Hermione scoffed. "Draco Malfoy only has one side, Ginny, and it's full of arrogance and vindictiveness."

"You're not listening to me. You're not even prepared to consider that Draco might have changed. His parents have died, for Heaven's sake!"

"You're forgetting, Ginny. We've all suffered losses here, some more than others." Hermione stood up suddenly, leaning over the table and looking mutinous. "Since I set foot through the front doors, all I've been to Malfoy is a Mudblood – I was not fit to be scrapped from the sole of his shoe, as far as he was concerned—"

"But he knows how wrong—"

"I've learnt to trust gut reactions more, Ginny. We should have listened to Harry last year, when his gut was telling him Malfoy was up to something. We didn't, Dumbledore died, and now I'm listening to his instincts again, my own, and seven years of being called 'That Mudblood Granger' makes me think that Malfoy hasn't changed, will never change, and that the only reason you're doing this with him is that either you're too blind to see he's tricking you for his own means, or too utterly stupid!"

Ginny looked up at Hermione, who was slightly out of breath. Never before had Ginny heard such venom from Hermione's mouth, and it deeply disturbed her. It stung her, and for a moment Ginny couldn't hear anything but the word 'stupid' spinning around the inside of her head over and over again. Her neck was burning, either from anger or embarrassment.

She knew that she still trusted Draco though – her own instincts were telling her that much – and that she would trust him with her life. Standing up so that she was level with Hermione, she told her that same thing, then left, as quickly as she could.

Dinner was awful that evening. She usually ate with Harry, Ron and Hermione, but not one of them was speaking to her.

During a particularly irate serving of turkey curry, Ron accidentally splashed her with sauce, and had to mutter an apology. The stalemate temporarily broken, she turned to him.

"So if you're so against this," she hissed at him, as he reached for the rice, "why haven't you told everyone and just got it all out in the open so I can get on with disappointing everyone at once?"

Ron looked at Harry, who shrugged. Slowly, Ron placed his knife and fork down, turned to Ginny, and said, succinctly,

"We're not telling anyone, Ginny, because we're too ashamed of you to even mention your name. That and we don't want you getting lynched before the next Quidditch match." And he went back to his dinner, resuming his stubborn silence. This in itself caused a certain amount of confusion, particularly when Neville attempted to engage her, Harry and Ron in a rather heated debate about Wronski Feints that he and Seamus were having, which resulted in Harry and Ron simply eating quickly and storming away from the table as soon as possible. Hermione was not far behind, and Ginny was left with Neville and Seamus asking what was going on.

She looked up across the Hall to see Malfoy watching her, frowning.

Out in the Entrance Hall later, Ginny sat on the steps that led out to the grounds. The doors were normally open until just after dinner, but Ginny had found it hard to swallow anything much, and had finished early. As she gazed down across the grounds, she felt a warm hand land on her shoulder.

Draco looked down at her, his frown still evident in the twilight spilling in through the doors.

"Let's go somewhere else, Ginny, we can't be seen together."

* * *

The Room of Requirement had transformed itself into a disused classroom when they had asked for somewhere private to go, and now seemed the quietest, most peaceful place Ginny had been in weeks. From some hidden source, the twilight of the grounds was filtering into the room, glancing off the waxed desk tops and reflecting onto the ceiling to make shimmering patterns. Around the walls, a mixture of glass jars, books and paintings hung, watching them.

Completely refusing to cry in front of Draco, Ginny settled for frowning ferociously at the opposite wall, her fingers clinging to the edge of the desk she was leaning against. She heard the door behind her click shut. Making sure that she was in no danger of letting her emotions get the better of her, Ginny turned around. Draco was leaning on the back of the door, watching her.

"You alright?" she asked, before he could.

"Fine," he replied. "Don't think you are, though."

She shrugged. "I'm fine too."

Draco nodded. She felt angry that he hadn't been able to tell she wasn't. Or at least that he'd given up that quickly. Forcing a smile – which she suspected looked to be more a grimace – she turned back to the wall.

"Have you lied like that to all your boyfriends, Ginny?"

She felt her face break into a true smile, and she tipped her head back. "No. Just you."

From behind her, she felt Draco slip his hands around her waist and hug her, resting his chin on her shoulder. Somehow this seemed to make everything she'd had to deal with during the day fade to dim, distance memory, like a vague recollection of something that happened weeks ago, as his green jumper rested against the back of her shirt.

"You think you've got problems," Draco breathed into her hair. "I've got double Potions tomorrow."

She laughed. "Problems indeed: you'll have to face Ron and Harry and Hermione."

He looked at her, a slightly sick expression on his thin face. "I'd forgotten about that: I was going for sarcasm. Now I genuinely do have worse problems than you."

She gurgled. Then felt irritated with herself for gurgling.

"Now, shall we try that again?" Draco asked, smirking. "You alright, Ginny?" he asked, over-emphatically, knowing she was not.

"I'll be alright. I just... hadn't thought about how I was going to cope with this. I'd hoped it would be secret for a bit longer."

Draco nodded. "So did I. But at least the whole school doesn't know."

"True."

She looked up at him. He was staring at her, and it made her uncomfortable. "What?" she asked. "What is it?"

"Nothing."

"No," she smiled, seeing a look of amusement cross his face. "What?"

"It's very hard for me to try and be the caring boyfriend who won't take advantage of you in this vulnerable state when I really, really would like to kiss you right now."

"Well, I'm not feeling that vulnerable, Draco—"

"Oh good," he replied, and he kissed her, before she was really aware of him doing so. Then he was backing her up against one of the desks and lifting her to sit on it, and leaning against it and slowing down and looking at her again, before kissing her again more gently and grinning.

"You've got to get back to the Gryffindor Common Room," he murmured.

"I really don't," she replied. "I want to know what it was Hermione said to you."

He grinned. She still wasn't used to it, but the sight of his eyes crinkled in amusement always made her shiver happily. Plus, she'd learnt that he had a dimple on his left cheek.

"Oh, she was just warning me off you, basically."

Ginny laughed. "Took her advice, then?"

"Of course. She threatened to hurt me quite gloriously if I didn't. How could I argue?"

"Because you knew if she laid a finger on you then I'd hex her so fast her hair would straighten."

Draco looked thoughtful. "I wonder why she never tried that…"

Ginny slapped him on the arm, but before she could again he'd grasped both her wrists and pulled them over her head. She found herself held pretty fast, and almost pressed flat against Draco's torso. She could feel his breath on her cheek, and could more or less count all the silver-gold stubble on his chin. Somehow she managed to notice that his mouth was open, his lips slightly parted. His bottom lip looked a dark, petal red, and seemed to be a similar texture.

"I—" he started, then had to stop because he voice didn't seem to work properly.

"Thought I was meant to be back in the Common Room, Malfoy?" she grinned softly.

"Yes, you are," he said. He pressed himself forwards and pinned her to the table top, crushing his mouth onto hers. "In a minute," he gasped.

* * *

_End. For now... Review, please! Needs encouragement!_


	3. The Heat Is On

_Sorry about all the update delays going on. I just haven't had the bloody time, I tell you. I'm raising the rating on this to the highest, because I just don't know where it's going, or how far._

_R & R PLEASE, I beg you!_

**The Heat Is On**

For a few days it had been unbearably – and uncharacteristically – hot in the Hogwarts castle and grounds. Even in the dungeons of the Slytherin dormitories, which were normally pleasantly cool if not bloody freezing, the heat seeped into the stone work and dampened it with condensation, and made the air dank and musty. Draco had moved ceaselessly throughout the night, particularly when wrapped up in the deep green velvet hangings. When he woke on a muggy Sunday morning a few weeks before Christmas and rolled over, he saw tiny droplets of liquid clinging stubbornly to the curtains, and his body was filmed in a flushed sweat, his sheets clinging uncomfortably to him.

He got up stickily, and dressed as quickly and coolly as possibly. He couldn't for the life of him remember a decent cooling charm. Silently he padded over the window and lent on the sill, peering out across the alien grounds. The sun had clambered into the sky and hung limply above the lake, where students had gathered to bask in the torturous weather and cool off, carefully out of reach of the Giant Squid. Personally, not only did he find it uncomfortably hot, but he found the bizarre temperature quite frankly scary – this was not natural.

For the last couple of Sundays, Ginny and Draco had taken to walking through the grounds out of the way of the rest of the school. With that in mind, Draco set off for the grounds in eager anticipation of not only the increasingly rare sight of a friendly face, but the possibility of being able to express his apprehensions to someone who was unlikely to defiantly retort just so they could disagree loudly with him as the Slytherin's had taken to doing – apparently the fallen form of a Malfoy was incredibly inspiring.

The grass was spongy but bone dry, and was an odd yellowing brown that was simply not consistent with the time of year. He wasn't exactly clear why the surroundings were effecting him so much – he'd never exactly felt much of an affinity with nature, and there was really no reason why he shouldn't be able to just enjoy the sunshine.

Except that fact it was Christmas in five weeks kept rearing up and threatening to make his insides turn cold.

Ginny was waiting – as she always was – just behind the broom shed. When she glanced up and saw him, he was surprised to see her face flush furiously.

"What's up?" he asked quietly, ducking out of sight between the shed and the trees it backed onto and bending to kiss her.

She blinked and half-smiled, but looked a little disgusted.

"I'm not that repulsive, am I?" he asked, only half-joking, and in fact not a little bit worried.

"God no," she smirked, as relief flooded him. "Nothing to do with you," she added, and he felt his chest swell slightly at her tone of voice and the sharpness with which she'd reassured him. "No, it's just…" she glanced up at him, then had to drop her gaze again. She didn't seem to know where to look.

"I think Ron and Hermione are… _canoodling_ in the shed," she blurted out, as if she didn't want to be saying the words at all. It was all Draco could do not to burst into fits of hysterics. He failed to restrain his look of incredulity, but he hadn't been trying that hard to hide it in the first place.

"Really?" he said, sneering. "That's… not a nice image."

Ginny grinned. "Try being related to one of them."

Draco eyed the wall to his right. "Seriously though?" he asked, looking at the grain as though it would part before him simply at the sheer force of his desire to know if it was true or not.

"Listen," Ginny said, putting her ear to the wood. Draco copied, feeling the rough warmth of the worn wall against his ear and its muffled hardness along his side. For a few seconds he couldn't hear anything while his hearing adjusted, until the shockingly clear sound of someone giggling broke over him and he leapt away.

"Merlin!" he laughed, sticking his ear back to the wall. "Was that Granger?"

"Yeah," Ginny said, looking revolted once more. "Urgh. Can we go?"

"Please let's," he agreed, grabbing her hand and steering her through the trees on the outskirts of the forbidden forest. There was less chance of them being seen together when they travelled just far enough in not to be seen clearly, but not so far that they couldn't see.

For some reason, Draco found it distinctly difficult to restrain the furious grin that he had on his face. Maybe it was the smugness with which he appreciated having something on Granger. Maybe it was the heady mix of seeing Ginny blushing and the continued heat in the air. Maybe it was just the fact that he was with someone who didn't want to see him in terrible pain, but he was suddenly feeling happier than he had in days.

"Ginny," he began, helping her over a fallen tree trunk as they picked their way around the edge of the forest, but he couldn't find the words to finish the sentence.

"Hmm?"

"Nothing."

Ginny looked up. "What is it? C'mon, you were going to say something."

"Just about the weather," he said, in a tone which he hoped suggested he'd dismissed the comment. It was true – he was about to talk about the weather – but he couldn't quite find the right way to say that the heat wave was disconcerting him out without sounding like a big… _girl_.

He chided himself mentally. He knew that if he'd thought that out loud Ginny would have hit him, probably rather forcefully, in the shoulder.

"Not like you to make a comment about something as trivial as the weather," she said, looking at him sharply. "You wouldn't waste your breath on something as mundane as that."

He grunted. He didn't want her to know that the fact she knew him so well was a matter of great pride to him.

Ginny suddenly drew to a halt. He started – he'd thought they were heading to the far side of the lake, but they'd stopped short of Hagrid's hut, out of sight.

"What is it?"

Ginny held up a hand, silencing him.

"I thought I heard something," she whispered.

Draco stopped moving. He let his ears take in the noises from the forest around them: leaves moving, twigs brushing against on another. Somewhere in the distance an owl hooted and ruffled its feathers. He couldn't hear anything out of the ordinary. Ginny was still frowning though, peering through the trees deeper into the heart of the forest.

"No," she murmured. "I can't hear it anymore."

Draco shrugged. "Maybe there just wasn't anything there?"

She shook her head. "No. I'm certain there was. Positive."

They stood there again, pausing in the fern-laden woodland. Eventually, Ginny let it drop and they resumed their walk through the forest boundary. Draco clung onto her hand, partly to reassure her, but mostly so that he himself was certain she was alright. They walked in silence, which wasn't unusual for them – except that this particular silence wasn't comfortable; it wasn't as easy as it normally was. It was punctuated by the fact that they were both listening intently to their surroundings, waiting and straining there ears. Draco was more than relieved when they reached the other side of the lake and broke out of the undergrowth onto the shoreline. The sun was beating generously, reflecting roughly off the wet pebbles in the shallows.

Suddenly Ginny's attention was focused solely on him again.

"So?"

He looked at her. "So… what?"

She smirked, crossing her arms. She looked very intimidating, and he couldn't deny that her appearance made him a little bit apprehensive. "Don't think you can get away with it that easily. You were going to say something earlier. And it was _not_ about the weather."

He ran a hand through his hair.

"It really wasn't anything," he said.

Ginny immediately opened her mouth to argue, but before she could speak, he decided it was probably best if he didn't let her get started. Diving forwards, he planted his hands either side of her neck and covered her mouth with his own.

"Mmph!" she said, but she was kissing him back, and in the long run, that was all that really mattered.

Several long minutes passed, during which time his mind wandered. Not far, mind you, mainly closer to Ginny. To her neck and her hair, and her warm, wet mouth, and the small of her back where his hand kept dawdling, tugging her closer so that she was flush against him. To be fair, she didn't let him bully her: her own fingers were doing their own damage to his sense of restraint and gentlemanly behaviour. When he realised that his blood supply was lacking anything with a semblance to oxygen, he thought it might be time to pull away.

He looked down, and was thoroughly thrilled at Ginny's appearance. Her hair was tangled, her bottom lip was utterly ravaged, and that was to say nothing of the scarlet blush she was sporting.

"You know, if you think that distracted me," she smirked, "you're sadly mistaken."

He sighed, but stopping his grin was impossible.

"All right," he shrugged. "Fine. Here, come sit down here, and I'll tell you all about it."

She did as she was told, but threw him a half-amused, half-don't-you-patronize-me glare, and settled herself on the prickly, moss-strewn ground, and looked expectantly up at him, her eyes wide.

He ran a hand threw his hair for a second time.

"It's nothing really," he began, but he was a little bit scared by the look she threw him, so he hurried on. "But this heat wave is really…" He grasped for the right word. Nothing seemed to exemplify just how uncomfortable it was making him. "Bothering me," he said lamely.

Ginny just nodded. "I can understand that. It is a bit weird."

"A '_bit_ weird'?" he repeated, throwing himself onto the ground next to her. "A _bit_? It's bloody insane."

"Yeah," she said, leaning back on her arm. "No reason why you should let it bother you so much, though," she went on, and when he tried to argue that it wasn't that much of a problem, she poked him. "It must've been a big deal, or you wouldn't have tried _not_ to tell me quite so vehemently."

He smiled sheepishly.

"Not like you to get so ruffled though," she said quietly, looking at him intently. "Quite so… flustered."

He glanced at her, and then had to do a double take to take another look at the expression clouding her big brown eyes like pools of treacle. Whatever it was made it feel like a balloon had expanded inside his chest.

"F-flustered?" he said, feigning a nervous stammer.

She grinned. "Mm-hmm."

Draco couldn't contain the smile that crept from his belly onto his lips, and watched as his fingers moved – entirely of their own free will – to fiddle with the hem of Ginny's T-shirt. Her skin felt hot – and that was saying something, considering the fact that the air was also unnaturally sweltering. He lowered himself onto his elbow so that he was level with her and nudged her nose with his. She giggled, and pressed her lips softly against his. He thought it was bizarre that the brief contact made him flush so completely, like he was being gently filled with warm water. Before he knew it her hands were on his waist and slipping coolly underneath his shirt.

He felt himself shiver. Which was silly. He'd done this before. Many times. But he understood why doing it with Ginny made his blood boil. It was idea that she wasn't doing it because he was popular and powerful. He was neither of those things. Yet, here she was, thrusting her fingers into his hair. Worshipping his mouth like it was sacred. Pulling his arse so that he was pressed smugly against her and he could feel—

He froze, then pulled away pretty sharpish. She looked surprised.

"What's the matter?"

He swallowed, staring at her.

"Draco? You're worrying me."

"You," he croaked. He stopped, cleared his throat, and tried again. "You don't have to do—"

"Anything I don't want to do?" she said, obvious in the way she was smiling that she was finding something very funny. "Believe me," she said brightly, shoving him onto his back and leaning over him, "if I didn't want to do this, we sure as hell wouldn't be doing it."

He grinned. "Oh. Well I thought I'd better check…"

"Less talking, more kissing."

"Right you are," he agreed, before tugging her back on top of him. After a second though, Ginny let go.

"What makes you think I wouldn't want to snog you?" she asked, frowning. "Senseless," she added, as an afterthought.

He didn't really know.

"I don't really know. Just… you've never really seemed to be into the whole public displays of affection thing so I assumed—"

"Draco, word to the wise: with me, never assume _anything_."

He shook his head. "Never again," he muttered.

&

"Oh, Merlin!" Ginny gasped. "I was meant to meet McGonagall an hour ago!"

Draco gaped as she promptly leapt to her feet and started half-striding, half-jogging back towards the castle, skirting the edges of the under-growth. Draco called after her, but she appeared not to hear. He tried to follow, but ran headlong into something very solid but very transparent.

His hands flew back to break his fall and crushed fern and bark beneath his palms. From someone in the foliage he heard pronounced speech, which had no inclination to keep itself low. This, more than if it had been worried about loudness, frightened Draco, and he found himself darting his hand towards his wand, only to feel it rocket up, into the air, and land on the ground several meters away.

"Leave the wand, Malfoy, you won't need it."

For one terrible, bone-freezing moment, he was sure that the Deatheaters he had eluded so well before now had finally caught up with him – until he saw Potter step forward out of the trees, followed by Weasley and Granger.

Draco scowled. "Oh, it's you."

"Yeah, Malfoy, it's us," Potter snapped, pulling his wand free of his cloak. "We want to talk to you about Ginny Weasley, if you've got the time."

Draco glanced from them to the path, down which Ginny had scrambled.

"Did you charm Ginny into thinking she had a meeting with McGonagall?" he asked.

"Very good," Weasley said smarmily. "If you catch onto things this easily then this conversation shouldn't tax you too much."

Draco was torn between his natural instinct to defend himself against them – physically and verbally – and the thought of what Ginny would say if she found out he hadn't been cooperative.

"We're going to make this as quick and painless as possible," Granger said, in a mild but firm tone. "If you leave Ginny alone and stop seeing her, your life will be very simple."

"If you keep going out with her," Potter finished, "then Hogwarts is going to become a very unpleasant place for you indeed, Malfoy."

Malfoy stared at them.

"You what?"

Ron visibly rolled his eyes. "Malfoy, you great thick git. Leave. My. Sister. Alone. Got it? Not too difficult to wrap your big blond head around, is it?"

"If you don't," Granger said softly, "then there's a very good chance that you won't make it through the school year."

"You're threatening me?"

Weasley laughed harshly. He couldn't believe that Ginny was related to someone so incredibly stupid. "And the penny finally drops."

Malfoy couldn't say anything, because there was a massive volcanic eruption of anger and hate boiling up inside him, and it was making cognisant thought almost impossible. He knew, _knew_, that if Ginny were here, they wouldn't have even had the guts to suggest…

"And why couldn't you say this in front of your sister, Weasley?" he asked calmly, knowing full well what effect she had over him. Weasley swallowed.

"She wouldn't—"

"Don't tell me you think she'd let you do this?" he smirked. "Ginevra Molly Weasley? Not. Bloody. Likely. Mate. She _knows_ what you think you me, and she doesn't think the same," _Thank Merlin_. "So why won't you just let her get on with her own life, eh?"

Granger shook her head slowly. "Malfoy, you know we couldn't let this thing between you two carry on. Think about it: she's a good guy. She's a hero, Malfoy, and you…" She looked almost apologetic. "You've been our… well, _enemy_ for…"

"_Been_," he spat. "Not anymore, never again. Since Mum and Dad—"

"Oh, don't give us that rubbish about your bloody parents," Weasley began, but Draco didn't let him finish. Forgetting his wand entirely, Draco lunged forwards and pushed Weasley up against a nearby tree, stumbling and clutching for footholds in the fern-strewn forest floor.

Malfoy panted. "Don't you say another word about my parents, you sodding little Weasel. You know nothing about it," he ground out. "_Nothing_."

He wheeled around, and thrust his wand at Potter.

"You think that you're in charge now, right? Since Dumbledore d-died—"

"Oh, don't act like you didn't have anything to do with that, Malfoy!" Granger said firmly. "You killed him, close enough. You shouldn't even speak his name."

Malfoy, despite himself, chuckled coolly. "Shouldn't say his name? Fear of the name, Granger, fear of the name. Well bloody _sod it_," he choked. "I don't care what you think of me, but I'm with you lot now. I'm on your damn side, I'm fighting the good fight, right? I'm going defeat V-Voldemort, with or without you _support_, and then I'm going get my sodding life back, all right? And if your sis," he added, turning to Weasley, "if your sis – who, by the way, I happen to be rather in love with – if your bloody sister wants to help me, wants to be with me, with the little filth-covered ferret boy… then as far as I can see that's her decision, not yours."

&

Of course, they hadn't agreed. Granger had looked mildly surprised, but was stubborn to the point that Draco wanted to bash her head against a tree when she said they would never let it carry on. The Chosen One and his sidekick Weasel had been nothing but furious, and had threatening to leave there wands on the mantelpiece and beat him into the ground the next time they saw him within spitting distance of Ginny.

Draco lay silently on his bed, taking in the colours and shifts of the light on his canopy over head, mulling it all over. Not that there was anyway in hell that he was going to stop seeing Ginny, but still, they'd given him things to think over: his own words, more then theirs, though.

Was he really fighting the good fight? It's not like he'd even declared his switch over. And he certainly hadn't done anything that could be construed at helping the good guys. No. He wasn't anything he'd said he was.

But he wanted to be. So incredibly painfully… Every time he thought about Ginny, searing, guilt-filled pain flared in his chest. He needed to find a way to help her. To help them all.

The door to the room swung open, and closed. Draco, waited for sounds of people going to bed, but none came. Then, suddenly, his curtains were ripped open and he was faced with seven or eight surly looking Slytherins.

He said nothing.

"Draco," Zabini said sharply, stepping into view from behind Crabbe. "We've got a small problem."

"Oh," he frowned, sitting up carefully and refusing to look away from Zabini's cold, dark stare. "And what's that?"

"You."

_Ah. Well. Should've seen that coming, really._

"Blaise," Draco said quickly, feeling each and every eye on him. "I can explain."

Zabini's carefully crafted icy façade melted slightly, into a scowl of fury.

"It better be good, Draco, whatever you're about to tell us, if you really are running around with that dirty little stoat Ginny Weasley."

Bypassing the rage that had reared up inside his chest making it feel like it was about to explode, Draco thought. This could work in his favour.

"Zabini," he said carefully, deliberately, "you great dolt. I'm only _pretending_ to go out with her."

The confusion on Zabini's face was plain.

"Pretending?"

"Pretending, genius. What better way," he said swiftly, excitedly, "of getting into Potter's inner circle, than by rolling around with little Ginny Weasley?" He sat back, crossed his legs in what he hoped looked relaxed and easy, and shrugged, cursing himself for him next words. "Besides, on top of that, I get to take a tumble with the easiest Gryffindor in the history of that bloody tower, and find out exactly how easy it is to pry apart her dimpled knees."

&

_Yes, "dimpled knees" is in fact a homage to Spike, from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I can see a certain coughperoxidecough correlation between Malfoy and Spike - though perhaps Malfoy's not quite so smooth as Spike - and I just wanted it there._

_(When reviewing, anyone who can tell me which episode that quote comes from can have a line or an idea or something put into the next chapter. Something small, but I'll write it in and credit you.)_

_Please R & R. Nothing less encouraging that a silent audience. Reviewers can have: Smooth Draco, who wants to flatten all the moss; Shy Draco, who wants you make sure you're not going too fast; or Cocky Draco, who wants to assume things..._


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